


Stitches (hold together)

by Lynx357



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 15.03 coda, ALL ABOARD THE ADULT CONVERSATION TRAIN, CAS DESERVES NICE THINGS 2k19, Canon divergent after 15.03, Dealing With Loss, GET UP FUCKERS, Gen, Grief, ITS TIME FOR HEALTHY COPING MECHANISMS, I’m full of rage, Jody & Cas being bros, Women Being Awesome, cas gets adopted by the Wayward gang, fuck you dean, i love you but wtf, jack is cas’ son, seriously, they would absolutely have his back
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-25
Updated: 2019-10-30
Packaged: 2021-01-03 05:48:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21174431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lynx357/pseuds/Lynx357
Summary: “I’m so sorry.” Claire murmured, still close enough that Cas could feel the vibration of her voice where her ribs pressed awkwardly up against his. “He was your kid. Wasn’t he?” Cas nodded, and Claire nodded too, content to stand next to him in silence, sharing in his grief, until the edges of it softened, just a little, just enough that he could breathe again.Pulling away, she glared at him, almost accusing,  “I actually give a shit about you, which means I want you to be alright - hell, I want you to be happy. So please - please stay with me. With us. You - you shouldn’t be alone.”





	1. Claire

**Author's Note:**

> So, if you’re here, you’re looking for something to soothe the pain of last episode. Here’s hoping this helps! It sure helped me to write it. My rage is now at manageable levels, but it should motivate me to finish this pretty soon.  
The wayward sisters gang would absolutely take Cas in and help him through all the crap, anyone who says otherwise can fight me.  
Anyway, enjoy!

The playground was empty. At nine in the evening, this wasn’t surprising, and it probably was for the best, considering that an older man in a trench coat staring at children rang all kinds of alarm bells.

Cas stared vacantly out over the dewy grass, watching the way the amber glow of the streetlights glinted dimly through the moisture. A car rumbled along the road before pulling over to park behind him, but he paid it no attention, too wrapped up in his thoughts to care about his surroundings.

Dean Winchester. He’d become such a huge part of Castiel’s life, in such a short span of years. They had been through so much together, sacrificed so much for each other. But Dean had betrayed him, had created a rift between them so deep, Cas was sure it could never be fixed, and now, he did not know what to do.

It should have been so simple, leaving. Dean had hurt him, so many times. Had blamed him for so much outside of his control, had almost killed him, had almost killed Jack - Castiel should have had no desire to stay.

No one had told him that being human meant being able to love and hate someone at the same time.

“Cas?” Called a familiar voice from behind him, young and female and sharp-edged, even when tinged with concern.

“Claire?” It came out surprisingly loud, incredulous. But there she stood, in her leather jacket, blonde hair braided away from her face, holding her shoulders stiffly, as if cold.

“Hey.” She nodded awkwardly at him where he had jumped up from the bench, shoving her fingers into her impractically small pockets. Cas blinked at her, confusion breaking though the fog of despair which had settled over his thoughts.

“What are you doing here?” The odds of this meeting being a coincidence were next to none, but Cas could not think of any reason why she would be anywhere near a Kansas playground at this time of day, let alone this specific one.

“Salt and burn a county over. I just wrapped up when I got a call from Patience, telling me that I should come here.”

“Patience?”

“Yeah, the latest member of our supernaturally screwed-over girl gang up at Sioux Falls. She’s psychic.” Claire sniffed and stamped her feet on the ground, shivering. She frowned at him. “Are you okay?”

Cas stared at her. The question had been blunt, but genuine. There were no underlying threats, no traps laid for him to fall into. She just... asked, like she really meant it. In that moment, Cas felt the weight of all his years pressing down on him, everything he had seen and fought and lost, and he wished he were human enough to cry.

“No, Claire.” He said, quiet and gravel-rough. “I’m not okay. I’m not sure I ever have been.”

It was Claire’s turn to blink, expression almost afraid in the dim light. She swallowed, shifting her weight uncertainly, unprepared for the honesty in his answer. 

“Well...” she glanced over her shoulder at her haphazardly parked car, then back at him, squaring her shoulders. “I have a really long drive ahead of me, and not enough money for a motel. Wanna come with? Make sure I don’t get axe-murdered on the side of the road someplace? Jody’d be real grateful to you.”

There wasn’t an axe-murderer out there good enough to take Claire down, and Castiel knew it. She wanted him to come, wanted keep an eye on him, rather than the other way around as she was suggesting, and was clumsily trying to hide it. It reminded him so much of a younger Dean Winchester that it made his grace ache. 

“Yes.” He tried for a smile, feeling it come out small and strained. “I have wanted to meet Jody Mills properly for some time.” Claire nodded agreeably, still stiff in the chilly night air, then turned on her heel to stomp noisily back to her car, muttering grumpily about the temperature. Castiel followed behind, feeling something strangely akin to hope for the first time in a very long while. For now, at least, he did not feel quite so alone.

————————————————————————

“Do you wanna talk about it?” They had passed late-night a while ago, and now edged closer to early morning where they sat in their shared motel room. Cas had enough cash in his pocket to supplement Claire’s meagre funds and get them both a room, posing as father and daughter in a routine which still felt as odd as it did familiar.

Claire’s voice sounded rusty in the darkness, weighed down with tiredness. All Cas could see were the whites of her eyes, and her silhouette where it sat above the rickety headboard.

“I don’t know.” It was true. He didn’t know if he wanted to talk about it. ‘It’ encompassed so much, he wouldn’t even know where to start.

“I know it sounds like some shrink bullshit, but talking does help. Trust me, Jody’s forced me into enough family therapy sessions for me to know.” Her teeth shone briefly in the dark as she smiled.

Leaning forward in his chair by the window, Cas closed his eyes, praying for some miracle which would somehow allow him to sleep, to drown in blackness for a few hours, to simply not have to think. It felt ironic that something that had been so inconvenient as a human was something he missed so desperately as an angel.

Finally, he exhaled.

“Jack’s dead.” Claire’s head snapped towards him. He heard her sharp intake of breath. “Jack is dead. He’s gone, and it’s my fault.” Castiel’s hands shook. He curled them into fists, drowning amid the sea of noise in his head. “He’s dead.” He whispered hoarsely. “He’s dead.”

So much had happened over the past days. Problem after problem, death after death. Everything had stopped now, and for the first time, Cas had nothing to distract him, no life-threatening danger to block out reality. Jack was dead, his son had died, been murdered by his grandfather, and only now did the entirety of what that meant come crashing down on him.

There had been no gentle passing, no chance for goodbye. Jack hadn’t gone to heaven, his soul had not found peace. His soul was gone, burned up to protect their family. Either he was gone completely, or he was in the Empty, and neither of those options were things he could bear thinking about.

A gentle hand pressed against his shoulder. Turning his head, he met Claire’s eyes, wide and bright with terrified sympathy. She’d crossed the room while he’d been wallowing in sorrow, to offer him comfort despite being exhausted. Despite the pain he had caused her.

She opened her mouth as though to speak several times, before apparently giving up, then steeled her jaw in determination and wrapped Cas up in a hug. Her arms were warm and bony, her hair, loose in preparation for sleep, tickled where it brushed up against his face, her soul humming with sadness where it settled closely under her skin.

“I’m so sorry.” Claire murmured, still close enough that Cas could feel the vibration of her voice where her ribs pressed up against his. “He was your kid. Wasn’t he?” Cas nodded, and Claire nodded too, content to stand next to him in silence, sharing in his grief, until the edges of it softened, just a little, just enough that he could breathe again. Eventually, though, she pulled away and coughed self-consciously, tucking her hair behind her ear.

Biting her lip, she watched him a few moments more.

“I-“ she stopped, gathered her thoughts. “I know that’s not all, even though it’s - it’s already terrible - but it’s not the only thing that’s bothering you. You wouldn’t be here if it was, with me. And I know that we aren’t the closest. But-“ Here, she glared at him, almost accusing, “- I give a shit about you. I want you to be alright - hell, I want you to be happy. So please - please stay with me. With us. You - you shouldn’t be alone.”

Cas watched her go to get back into bed, throat thick with words he couldn’t seem to express. As she pulled back her quilt, Claire paused suddenly and looked back at him.

“You didn’t let me be alone. You helped me find people, good people who cared about me. You should have that too.” Apparently at her limit of emotional sharing for one day, she gave one final awkward nod, and slid rapidly into bed, lying down with her back to Castiel, somehow radiating embarrassment from the back of her head.

“Claire?” Cas said softly.

“Mm?”

“Thank you.”

“Whatever.” Then, even more quietly, “You’re welcome.”

———————————————————————

Morning brought with it a monosyllabic Claire who shuffled reluctantly away from her warm blankets and fell upon the coffee Cas gone out to find while she had gotten ready in the bathroom like a starving wolf upon a carcass.

Castiel’s night had been difficult. With no one to talk to and little to occupy him, the seven hours that Claire had rested had been filled with replays of every terrible thing which had happened in the past weeks. Images of Jack’s broken body had haunted him. Every time he closed his eyes, the hideous twisted soul of Belphagor loomed forward, taunting, smirking out from behind Jacks face, laughing at him with Jack’s voice.

It was easier in the light of day.

They hit the road at around ten, Claire in the drivers seat. She flipped on the radio, tuning in to some top 40 station, bobbing her head absentmindedly along with some of the songs, tapping beats out on the steering wheel. There had been no hint of classic rock, and for that, Cas had been grateful.

A few hours down the road, the soft bars of a new song began playing, only to be cut off when Claire violently whacked the off button with a noise of disgust. Cas frowned at her, perplexed. Sheepishly, she informed him that she had heard that song played on repeat enough times for her to hate it, then launched into a lengthly complaint about her adopted sister Alex and her habit of playing the same songs over and over again.

“Even if I liked the song it was annoying, cause I knew I’d end up hating it within a week, and I mean, _headphones_! Headphones are a thing, how hard would it have been for her to use those instead?”

She continued to talk as they passed farmland and small towns, filling the car with noise, seeming unbothered that Cas simply sat and listened, taking in each piece of information like his life depended on it, allowing stories of Claire’s home life to wash over him, a shield between him and his thoughts. 

It had been years since the two of them had truly spoken, and despite knowing that she had been in good hands, the part of Cas which he reserved for worrying about Claire eased as she spoke. 

“Man, you should see Patience’s face sometimes when we talk about hunts that we’ve been on - the first time we told her about vampires I seriously thought she was gonna book it, just give up and run away. She was all, ‘You _cut_ their _heads off_?!” Like she hadn’t seen Alex dissect one of those weird ass mutant things from that other universe that Kaia-“ she broke off abruptly, breath hitching.

Cas turned to look at her, worry rising sharply in his chest as she gripped the steering wheel, knuckles white. The muscles in her jaw stood out sharply as she clenched her teeth.

A lay-by came into view ahead of them. As it came alongside the car, Claire pulled over, resting her forehead on the wheel as she breathed in and out, slow and shallow, like it took up all her concentration. Cas leant forward, unsure how to help, unsure if his help would even be welcome.

He knew about Kaia. Knew that she had the ability to dream walk, that she had been connected to a doppelgänger in another universe, that she had died saving Claire. He knew that Jack had felt guilty over her death.

A part of Claire’s soul throbbed next to her heart, an old, jagged knot that wept pain like an infected wound. Minutes dragged past as Cas waited until she sat up and turned to him, eyes pink, voice rasping.

“I would have loved her.” Claire said quietly. She huffed through her nose. “It probably sounds stupid.” She tipped her head back, eyes blankly searching the horizon. “I mean, I knew her for - what? Barely a day? Which we spent most of running and fighting and trying not to get killed by monsters. But it was like...” she ran her tongue along her top lip as a tear spilled down her cheek. “It was so _easy_ with her. She’d say something, or pull a face, or, god, just shrug, and I’d just... get it.”

A tremulous smile tugged at Claire’s mouth.

“I’d get how she felt, why she did the things she did, because we were kinda the same, y’know? Even though we were different, we were the same, and if we’d had longer, if I’d had the chance, I would have loved her.”

And Cas - Cas thought about Jack, about the furrow he’d get between his eyes when he focused on learning something new, about the look of unabashed delight on his face that time he’d stumbled upon a YouTube compilation of dogs meeting newborn babies, about the way he and Cas had shared commiserating looks when the Winchester’s had done something bewilderingly human that they didn’t understand, about the devastation written across his face whenever he tried to save someone and failed, and he thought, _oh_. Because yes. He understood. 

“And she trusted me.” Claire went on, crying in earnest now, though her voice held steady. “She trusted me when I said I’d protect her, and then she _died_-“ and her voice cracked, shattered into ragged gasps as Claire wiped futilely at her leaking eyes - “she died protecting _me_.”

And Cas pulled her roughly into a hug and let her sob into his chest and thought about how terrible it was that they could understand each other so perfectly.

The sun crept across the sky as they held each other, until Claire sniffed messily and pulled away, scrubbing at her eyes.

“Let me drive?” Cas offered. Claire swallowed thickly and nodded.

Later, curled up against the window, head pillowed on her hand, she spoke up.

“Jody keeps telling me that it wasn’t my fault. That I wasn’t the one to kill Kaia, that I couldn’t have known what would happen. That she wouldn’t want me to be sad.” Cas kept his eyes on the road, but he inclined his head a little, to show he was listening.

“She’s right.” He told her. From the corner of his eye, he saw her smile, small and sad.

“Yeah.” She said, meaningfully. “I think she is.”

Cas glanced sharply at her, but she just looked back at him with steady blue eyes until he turned away again, wanting to argue that it was different, that they hadn’t been talking about him, but unable to think of why.

Somewhere in his chest, though, something loosened, just a bit.


	2. Patience

Patience’s favourite place to sit in Jody’s house was the old armchair by the front window. It had an ugly floral print pattern, and old cushions that had worn over time to the ideal amount of squishiness. The arms were set the perfect width for her to curl up in as she did her homework, and the back was low enough that she could easily gaze out of the window and count the cars passing by.

Alex and Claire never fought her for it; they preferred to squabble over the corner section of the L-shaped sofa, which had the best place to stretch out when they watched tv.

It was here that she was sitting, reading The Great Gatsby for English class, when Claire’s car pulled up outside with a strange man sat in the drivers seat who she had only seen once before, in a vision.

“Claire’s home, you guys!” She called out to Jody and Alex, cringing slightly as she listened to the clatter of them abandoning whatever they had been doing in favour of haring into the front room to peer outside like a pair of creepers.

“Is Cas with her?” Jody asked, craning her neck eagerly around the curtains. She still held a spoon in her hand, smeared with mashed potato from where she had been cooking dinner. Alex snorted at her, exchanging a fond look with Patience.

“Come on Jody, there’s no way she would have made it back this fast on her own.” Jody playfully jabbed her spoon at Alex, who grinned back, unrepentant.

“Smartass.” She accused.

Patience shook her head, tucked a bookmark into her book, and stood up.

“Okay, while this is very entertaining, I’m gonna actually go out and help them bring the bags in. You guys can keep on with your Mrs Dursley impressions.” She patted both of their shoulders and half-jogged out of the room.

“Nerd!” Alex shouted after her, and she snickered as she slid her feet into her sneakers.

Nerves clenched in her belly as she pushed open the front door. Though her vision had been as clear as all the others she’d experienced so far, it had been short; Claire stood in a playground opposite a man wearing a trench coat and a palpable aura of misery. Patience had heard nothing of their conversation, but she had been learning to trust her gut instinct, and her gut had been pretty insistent that this was important.

Claire and Castiel had climbed out of the car by that point, Cas going around to pop the trunk, and Claire stretching, arms to the sky, hair flat on one side in a way which suggested she’d fallen asleep on the way.

“Claire!” Patience jumped forward for a swift hug, which Claire returned with one arm. Things between them were improving, slowly, but steadily as they got to know each other.

There had been some time when they had skirted around each other, Patience wary of encroaching on Claire’s territory, tangled up in regret and horror over the part she’d accidentally played in Kaia’s death.

Things had come to a head one night, when they’d been home alone while Jody and Alex both worked night shifts. Something small had sparked a screaming match, both girls hurling accusations at each other, right up until, near tears, Patience had shrieked that she was sorry about Kaia, that she knew it was her fault she had died, that she didn’t need Claire to keep reminding her about it.

Claire had fallen silent, staring blankly at Patience, face twisted up with confusion, then said, at normal volume, to not be stupid, of course Kaia’s death wasn’t her fault, it was Claire’s, why the hell would Claire blame her?

After that, they’d struck up a tentative friendship, built on shared secrets and late-night hot chocolate.

“Hey, Patience.” She said, sounding tired but - almost - at peace? Patience cocked her head, looking Claire over until she frowned. “What?”

“Nothing!” Patience said, too loud. She cleared her throat. “You just... seem happier.”

“Oh.” Claire glanced over at Castiel, who hovered uncertainly behind her, holding her duffel bag. Lifted one shoulder. “Yeah. We talked. It helped.” And walked off toward the house. Huffing a soft laugh, Patience turned to the stranger.

“You must be Castiel.” He didn’t really look like an angel. Mostly he just looked sad, like his whole life had fallen apart around him. She felt weighed down just watching him, the sag of his shoulders, the mournful creases of his eyes.

“Yes.” He responded, deep and serious. “You must be Patience.” She offered him a smile, gestured to indicate they should head inside.

“That’s me.”

Ahead of them, Jody had finally braved the driveway, but been derailed by Claire, who’d pulled her in for a brief but serious discussion, during which Jody’s face visibly dropped before she schooled it into a welcoming expression.

“Cas!” She exclaimed brightly. Surging forward, She leant up to press an affectionate kiss to Castiel’s cheek. “I’m so glad you’re here.” She told him, emanating sincerity. He blinked down at her.

“Um... thank you?” He said uncertainly. Before Jody could open her mouth again, a distant beeping sounded from the kitchen.

“Oh! That’ll be the chicken. Come on in, Cas, you should have dinner with us.”

“I don’t -“ She darted inside. “-need to eat,” he finished, sighing defeatedly.

“You don’t have to.” Patience told him as they entered the hallway and removed their shoes. His brow furrowed at her, and she smiled reassuringly. “You don’t have to eat anything. You don’t have to talk if you don’t want to, and you don’t have to pretend to be happy.” She showed him where he could put Claire’s bag and hang his coat. “But you don’t have to be alone, either.” She braved a hand on his arm and squeezed, comforting, then went to grab one of the nice chairs at the table before she ended up with the annoying wobbly one again.


	3. Jody

Dinner with Claire’s family was... strange. No one seemed bothered by his presence, despite the fact that he sat quietly in his chair without any food on his plate, simply listening to the ebb and flow of conversation around him.

The girls bickered and teased, fought over the potatoes and the last leg of chicken, Claire claiming just-returned-from-a-hunt privileges while Alex protested that nursing was way harder than fighting any ghost could be. As they duked it out, Patience quietly swooped in and snagged the chicken, blinking innocent brown eyes at their outraged faces.

Jody presided over the conversation, eyes dancing, entertained by their antics, chipping in when things got a little too intense, chiding them when they swore. Every so often, her eyes would flick up to meet Castiel’s, often sharing an amused smile or an affectionate eye roll, involving him without requiring him to speak.

When the plates were scraped clean, Alex and Patience began to stack up the dishes, piling the scant leftovers onto a single plate to go in the fridge. Claire sidled sneakily towards the living room and the prime tv-watching spot, only to make a break for it after Alex spotted her.

“Hey!” Alex exclaimed, diving after her.

“Don’t break anything!” Jody shouted desperately, flinching at the muffled crash of two bodies colliding as they both lunged for the same seat. Patience giggled, leaning forward conspiratorially to whisper,

“I’m gonna go steal the tv remote while they’re distracted.” She winked at Cas and vanished after her sisters. Jody sighed the sigh of the long-suffering, then laughed softly to herself.

“Well bucko, looks like we’re on washing up duty. Sorry about that.” She said apologetically.

Cas couldn’t help but feel relieved. “It’s alright. I think I’m safer in here anyway.” He sent a vaguely disturbed look towards the ruckus he could hear in the living room. Jody laughed again, warm and bright.

“Yeah, that’s true.” She nudged him gently with one elbow. “Come on then, otherwise I’ll talk myself out of it and I’ll end up having to do it in the morning.”

They ended up working in comfortable silence, side by side with their sleeves rolled up, Jody elbow deep in soap suds while Cas methodically wiped water off the dishes, stacking them neatly in lieu of poking around strange cupboards.

It felt nice to have defined tasks again - tasks that did not require dealing with hair-raising terror or bone-deep dread. When the last saucepan had been soaked and dried, Jody took the time to show him where everything went, expressing (an undue amount) of delight when Cas proved tall enough to put the glasses on the top shelf without resorting to climbing countertops.

The amount of joy Jody seemed to find in the mundane perplexed Castiel. He couldn’t remember ever having that kind of enthusiasm for anything. Though, he supposed, maybe happiness at such simple things came with domesticity, with a level of contentment that came with routine and familiarity.

There had been times in the past decade when such things seemed within reach. Brief weeks or months of peace filled with quiet conversation, movies and meals and laughter. But something had always interrupted; the next catastrophe, the next war, grinding them down under the weight of sacrifice, driving rifts between them. Good times had always been fleeting.

Cas couldn’t help but wonder if that had been Chucks plan all along. That maybe he’d gotten some sort of twisted enjoyment from showing Cas glimpses of what could have been. If the first apocalypse had been the last, if he and Sam and Dean had lived lives not marked by the fights that they fought, the friends that they lost. 

Finally, Jody leant back against the counter and relaxed, shoulders visibly dropping as she rolled her head, working kinks out of her neck.

“Coffee?” She asked.

“Oh. Uh, yes please.” Cas hovered uncomfortably for a moment, then sat at the kitchen table, watching as she pottered around.

“Milk? Sugar?”

“No, thank you.”

“Alright, here ya go.” She slid a plain blue mug over to him, settling down on the opposite side of the table with her own, which had a cartoon rabbit dressed as a cop on the front of it. Noticing Cas’ interest, Jody grinned, a little sheepish.

“She’s a Disney character. Alex thought it was cute.”

“Ah.” Cas nodded. “I haven’t seen many movies lately.” Jody paused mid-sip, then lowered her drink, suddenly serious.

“No. I don’t suppose you have.” Cas lowered his eyes, staring into his coffee to avoid Jody’s gaze. She sighed sadly at him.

“Cas.” She started softly. “I hate to ask this, but I’ve gotta know. Why aren’t you with the boys?” Cas closed his eyes, fiddled with the edge of his mug.

“Dean and I... it’s been... difficult. For a while now. Things kept happening. Things kept going wrong, and we only ever seemed to disagree with one another.” He stopped, waited for Jody to ask about the ‘disagreements’. 

“Go on.” She said, patiently. Surprised, Cas looked up, nonplussed by her lack of judgement, finding her steadily looking back at him.

“After...” He stopped again. Breathed. “After Jack. And Mary, and Rowena-“

“Rowena?” Jody cut in, alarmed.

“Y-yes. She, uh. She’s dead, as well.” Jody pressed a hand to her mouth.

“Oh god, I’m so sorry.” She shook herself, visibly pushing past her shock. “No, I’ll process that later. I’m sorry, carry on.”

“After... everything. I tried to talk to Dean. I wanted... I was angry at him as well. But I hoped that he would listen. Would try to understand why things happened the way they did, that I couldn’t control how things turned out. But he just.”

Cas breathed carefully, focusing on the way his lungs expanded. In. Out. “He asked why I didn’t follow our plan.” Pain threatened to overwhelm him. He breathed in. “I told him that some things went wrong. The way they always do.” Out. “And he said.” In. “‘Why does that something always seem to be you’.” Out. The walls of the kitchen felt stifling all of a sudden, closing around him until all he could see was Dean’s face, tight with anger, refusing to give ground, to concede any shared blame.

“Cas.” Jody breathed, eyes bright with unshed tears. She stretched out a hand, gently brushed her fingers over his knuckles. “He didn’t... he didn’t kick you out, did he?” Her voice was hushed, horrified, as though the concept were utterly foreign to her.

“No.” He shook his head. “No, I... I left.” Marginally, Jody relaxed, and closed her eyes briefly, to collect herself.

“Good.” She told him sharply. Startled at her vehemence, Cas frowned at her, head tilting. She scowled right back, mouth twisted with fury. “Good, Cas. You didn’t deserve that. Not from him, not from anyone.”

“But...” Cas searched her face, lost. “He’s your family.”

“Oh.” Jody softened, squeezed his hand. “Yeah. He is family, and I love him. But you know what? Part of being someones family is knowing when to kick their ass for being a dick, which is what I’m gonna do the next time I see that boy. And, besides, honey,” she leaned forward intently, “you’re family too.”

She gave him one last smile, lips pressed close together in sympathy, then pulled away to sip at her coffee.

“Alright.” She blew out a breath. “Interrogation over, I promise.” Cas blinked at her.

“I don’t understand. Don’t you have questions?”

“Oh, yeah.” Jody said immediately. “A bunch.” Slouching back in her chair, she shrugged. “But they can wait. Until you’re ready.” A pathetic amount of gratitude welled up in Cas’ chest and he curled his hands around the now-lukewarm coffee mug, lifting it towards his mouth.

“Thank you.” He said quietly. The corner of Jody’s mouth quirked up. 

“Don’t sweat it.”

Later, when night had well and truly fallen and the girls had already gone upstairs to bed, Jody appeared in the kitchen doorway in a dressing gown, clutching an armful of books which she set down on the table.

“Hey. I just remembered that you don’t need to sleep, and I figured you’re the type to not watch tv in case it gets too loud, so, here.”

Pulling the pile towards him, Cas ran a hand over the top cover. A picture of a robin stared up at him, clutching an old-fashioned key in its mouth.

“I read that one when I’m feeling sad.” Jody told him, playing absently with her belt. Her cheeks looked slightly red in the dim light, though Cas could not fathom why such a thing would embarrass her.

“Thank you.” He said seriously. “I haven’t read this one.” Metatron hadn’t either, apparently. Possibly because of the text at the top declaring it ‘children’s fiction’, or maybe it had simply slipped through his net. Either way, it would be a welcome distraction from the solitude of nighttime.

“You’re welcome. And - I forgot to ask earlier - is Sam alright?”

“I’m not sure.” Sam had been so busy the past week, throwing himself into protecting people from the ghosts, withdrawing from everyone after Rowena’s sacrifice. Truthfully, Cas had almost forgotten about him; it felt like the ground underneath him had been being crushed under the weight of all that happened, and Sam had somehow fallen through the cracks.

“He - he was there. When Rowena... they were quite close, in the end. I doubt he wanted to see me.” Guilt curled familiar fingers around Cas’ heart.

Jody rubbed a hand across her face.

“Jesus. You boys can never do things by halves, can you?”

“We never have yet.” Castiel agreed.

“I think you’re wrong, though.” She told him gently. “Sam would want to know that you’re alright.” Cas drew back, prepared to point out all the reasons that Sam most likely felt relieved at his absence, but Jody forestalled him, holding up a hand.

”I’m not pushing you into anything, Sweetheart. I just think that you boys are similar in a lot of ways - I’d bet money that he’s beating himself up just as much as you are.” That was probably true. Martyr complexes seemed to be a running theme within hunting families. 

“You might be right.” He conceded. “But I think that, right now, we both need space.”

“Alright.” Jody stepped closer to pull him into a hug. “You do what feels right for you, okay? I’m just here for moral support.” She patted his shoulder affectionately. “I’ve gotta hit the sack, though. I’m exhausted. Goodnight, Cas.”

“Goodnight, Jody.” He watched her disappear up the stairs and sat down again, picking up the book he’d been examining earlier. Much of the night passed quietly by while Cas read of spoilt, unhappy children finding peace among the growing things of a locked-away garden, and he wished that solving his own problems could be as simple as theirs.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone! So I’m going to end this here - it’s a good place for Cas to be and I like how open it is, so you guys can imagine whatever you like happening after this. Sorry to anyone who wanted more, but hey! Feel free to write your own sequel if you want. Thank you so much, to everyone who left kudos and comments, I love you all!


End file.
